"Gretchen?"

"Yeah. Her husband is getting transferred to Connecticut so they're moving. I wanted to ask you if you wanted the job. It doesn't pay much, but you at least know about bikes and you know -"

"Yes. I want to." She says before I can finish, without any hesitation. "I would love that."

"You're sure? It's not very exciting."

"I don't care."

"I just kinda feel like you're doing everything for me. The house cleaning, volunteering with my mom, and now this. I don't want you to think I'm turning you into my own personal slave." And fuck...that's wicked appealing.

Her tongue slides across her bottom lip. "I don't mind at all. I love all of it."

I tear my eyes off her mouth and walk across my room to open the window. I need air. Lots of it. Badly.

"Okay, then it's settled. Now I'm going to take a shower, grab a quick nap, we'll load the traps, then I'll take you home. Sound good?"

"Yes, of course. I made lasagna, I just have to put it in the oven when you're ready to eat."

Damn. I figured she would have just blown that idea off, but she really made me dinner. And one of my favorite dishes, to boot. When was the last time anyone cooked for me who wasn't my mother? I can't remember.

"That sounds great. Wake me up around four and we'll eat."

"Okay. I'm going to nap on your couch. I'll set the alarm on my phone so we don't end up sleeping 'til tomorrow." She finally smiles at me, some of the sadness in her eyes fading.

I close my door when she leaves, which I've never done before. When she stayed here when she was little, she would leave the guest room in the middle of the night, drag about ten stuffed animals and her favorite blanket up onto my bed, and sleep on my king-sized bed with me. I'd usually wake up with a teddy bear or two rammed into my back.

I'm worried with her feeling sad she might try to crawl onto my bed with me again.

And I'm not sure I wouldn't like it.

5

Kenzi

Kenzi ~ age five

Toren ~ age twenty

"Can we do anything for you, bro?" Asher asks.

I shake my head. "No...I just needed to get away from my family."

He puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. "Understood. Anything you need, just let us know."

"Thanks."

Ember stands in front of me, concern all over her face. "Tor, please sit. You look like you're going to drop." Dazed, I sit in the chair I always sit in, and she kneels in front of me and pulls off my shoes. "Ash, honey, go get him some water." She smiles up at me as he goes off to the kitchen. "You just need to rest. It's been a long few days, you're exhausted and mentally drained."

Ash comes back with a glass of water and hands it to me. "It's okay to let yourself grieve, Tor. You've been like a fucking rock since it happened."

"My family needs me to be strong for them. I can't fall apart."

"I get that, man. But you need to let yourself feel. Cry if you have to. You're safe here with us, you know that. You can act all tough in front of them, but here you don't have to."

I sip my water slowly. I'm afraid to fall apart. I'm afraid I'll never go back together again.

"We love you," Ember says, having no idea how much her words are killing me.

"I know."

"We're gonna go in the other room and leave you alone for a while. Just yell if you need us."

"Thanks...for everything you guys have done for me and my family."

"Tor, don't thank us. You're our best friend. We'd do anything for you."

Closing my eyes, I nod.

A small hand touches mine, and I open my eyes to see Kenzi standing next to the chair, a tiny mirror image of her parents, watching me with grave concern.

Ember tries to pull her away. "Come on, Kenzi, it's time for bed. Uncle Tor needs some time alone."

"No..." She climbs up onto my lap and hugs me. "He can't be alone, Mommy."

Asher reaches for her but I stop him. "She can stay. I don't mind."

Ember sighs. "Alright, but if she bugs you, just yell down the hall and I'll come get her."

"I will."

I put my glass on the table next to the chair and put my arm around her, comforted by her closeness.

"Uncle Tor?" she whispers when her parents are gone.

"Yeah?"

"Your Daddy went to Heaven?"

I take a deep breath. "That's right, Angel. He did."

She hugs me tighter. "Don't be sad. We can share my Daddy."

I can't help but smile. "Thank you, Kenzi. That's very sweet."

She soon falls asleep against my chest like she always does. The sound of her breathing is calming, and not wanting to wake her prevents me from getting up to raid the liquor cabinet and get drunk off my ass to numb the pain.

My father is gone. I didn't get to say goodbye, or thank him for being such a great father and supporting all my dreams.

Dreams that I now have to let go, to take care of his family and his shop. It's what he would want and expect, and I owe him that.

Kenzi stirs and I look down at her peaceful sleeping face. She's just two years younger than my sister, Tesla. I should probably be with her, comforting her, telling her everything will be okay but I don't have it in me to be there for all of them tonight.

Tonight, I just need someone to comfort me for once.

Kenzi

His door is closed.

I stand outside it in the hallway, in a state of utter confusion. He's never closed his door before.

Why today?

I have to believe it means something, this suddenly closed door. Is he trying to tell me something? Did I do or say something to make him mad? Have I been too clingy?

Is he drawing a line where there never was one before?

The scent of the lasagna cooking in the oven makes my stomach growl in protest as I stare at the door for a long time, contemplating its meaning.

I knock softly and wait. I don't hear a sound on the other side, so I knock harder. Still nothing. I bang harder.

"Tor?"

I press my ear against the door and the sound of his light snoring is all I can hear.

Screw it.

I open the door and step inside his room, feeling slightly guilty, but that quickly turns into something entirely different when my eyes land on him, laying on top of his white down comforter in nothing but black shorts. I literally freeze mid-step and just stare at him, my breath caught in my throat as a swarm of feelings I've never felt before possess me.

I've seen Toren practically every day of my entire life. I've seen him as a teen and I've seen him as a man. I've seen him happy, sad, sick, drunk, behind bars, on a motorcycle, in a truck, grieving, pissed off, loving, playful, and serious. But I've never seen him look like he just fell out of some magical portal of hotness.

I knew he started working out a lot again over the winter, but I had no idea how big and muscular his entire body had become. Or maybe he was always like this? The ink I noticed earlier and tried not to look at spans across his defined abs - words in gothic script that I can't read from where I'm still frozen, and a portrait of a female warrior takes up most of his torso and rib cage. A black raven covers one of his pecs, its wings seeming to flutter with his breathing.

Inching closer to the bed, I notice his hair is untied and damp, falling across half his face. I desperately want to reach out and push it away because he hates his hair in his face, but a little voice inside me says touching him right now, while he's lying in bed nearly naked, would be crossing a line.

Another new line has mysteriously popped up. I've touched Tor a million times. But today, now, like this...it feels wrong because something about it also feels so right, so needed, so demanded, so naturally instinctive that it shakes me right down to my toes. And that can only mean something really, really good, or really, really bad.

Swallowing, I say his name softly. "Tor?"

He doesn't move or wake.

The man sleeps like the dead.

I gently nudge his shoulder, warm and hard under my hand. "Tor? Wake up."

His eyes open and slowly focus on me, and goosebumps sprinkle across my flesh when he smiles sleepily at me. It feels faintly sensual, knowing I am the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes.

"I'm sorry...I knocked but it didn't wake you," I stammer, feeling even more exposed than he is. Can he tell I was looking at him while he was sleeping?

He sits up and stretches his arms over his head, flexing his fingers, and my stomach does the flippies again at the sight of his chiseled chest and abs straining as he arches his back.

"It's okay," he says groggily. "Fuck. Something smells great."

"Dinner is ready. If you're hungry?"

"You kidding? I'm starved."

"Well, get up, sleepyhead. I'll go set the table."

I make a quick exit out of his room and he joins me in the kitchen a few minutes later, dressed and much more awake, and throws a pair of purple sweat pants at me.

"What’s this for?" I ask.

"To wear when we check the traps after dinner. I don't want you to wear shorts walking in the woods, you might get a tick on you."

"Thank you. Whose are these? Is there a woman without pants running around town?" I joke, not sure I even want to know the answer to that.

"Sydni left them here months ago. She won't mind if you borrow them. You can burn them if you want. I don't want her stuff in my house anymore."

I fold them and put them off to the side. "Duly noted. Let's eat."

He raves over my lasagna, telling me it's just as good as his mom’s and he'd love for me to make him dinner on the days I'm here cleaning his house. He'll throw me some more money to cook. I agree, not because I want the money, but because I want to cook for him. I have no idea why I'm so drawn to domestic activities, but I am, and now I'm incredibly excited about cooking for him a few times a week. My mind starts to churn with meal ideas.